"Oh, that is only tactics, Fräulein Ilmarinen. Women never capitulate. That we both know too well. Do you know, I have never had opportunity to see you so close, though I have been so curious to get a good view of you. Tell me, do you dye your hair with saffron to make it such a lovely gold color?"
The golden hue of Zeneida's hair was a natural beauty, but she whispered confidentially to the Princess:
"No; saffron has too pungent a smell. I dye my hair with berberis roots in which purple snails have been steeped."
"And I never could understand how you get that exquisite complexion. Do you use violet roots?"
Zeneida laughed; the blush which heightened her complexion should have been answer enough—could she have told the truth. But she had come here to lie; therefore answered, in laughing accents:
"Oh, Princess, the preservation of this complexion is a perfect science. I have an old book, published in the times of Poppæa, which contains the receipt."
"Oh, among other things does that receipt advise laying a slice of beef upon one's face on going to bed?"
"Yes, that and other things. I could send you the book; though, in truth, you do not need it. It would be the Graces clothing Anadyomene."
"Oh, you are as magnanimous an adversary as that French naval captain who shared his powder with the Englishman and let himself be shot by him. To that I can only answer as did the Persian king to the Armenians: 'What use is it to send me your sword if therewith you do not send me your arm also?' Of what use the secret of the cosmetic if you do not make me an adept in that bewitching smile which none may resist?"
"Princess, you are just like Napoleon, who had the art of raising a fallen foe."